 
 Happy Endby Cecilio Morales
 
           
                    Afloat in Everafter
                    I swim in perfect circles
                    with lilypad princes
                    a-bow before me, until ripples
                    pop my glide:
                    my crystal slippers crack aglow.
                    
                    Do not touch me,
                    I have risen from my cross.
                    Its timbers sigh, and howls
                    issue from every crevice,
                    creaking in the remembrance
                    that I have nailed its hands,
                    bound its feet: its wood
                    not virgin.
                    
                    Under cover's night
                    I hurry cruise past Circe's farm
                    through the forest to the meadow
                    where Furies' graze
                    where Sirens echo.
                    
                    Riddled with stares and stars,
                    I plow my haunted soil anew,
                    no turning back, nor mourning;
                    again the dogwood grows in doubting rain.
                    My seed is pain,
                    I lack the hoe to weed it out.
                    
                    I am my prince; I rule myself
                    as if I were a fawn to no hunter
                    way past my afternoon.
                    Not speed, nor arrow in no quiver
                    may deliver me
                    for swans do not soar in Everafter
                    but know to avoid the banks
                    where Furies mingle with the rabble.
         
                                    -end-
                      Copyright (c) 1992 by Cecilio Morales
           
           
